Echoes from the past

HOES FROM THE PAST

MARY NORGOTT BRYAN

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Echoes from the Past

By

Mary Norcott Bryan

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ECHOES FROM THE PAST

Dedicated to the Memory of my Mother.

''But might I choose of all the loved and lost ones,
Whose going Home has cost me bitter tears,
It would be thy face, oh ! gentle, loving Mother,
So missed, so longed for, through these empty years".

Feeling that whatever is good in my life, or the lives
of my children, is due to my Mother's love and prayers,
I think it not unwise to write you a short account of her
life.

She prayed three times a day. Always at twilight
was her voice lifted up to God for blessings on her loved
ones.

I am especially anxious for my children to remember
their grandmother, the essence of whose saintly life still
lingers over us, and helps us along in this journey to the
future —

MARY NORCOTT BRYAN

New Berne, North Carolina
May 1st, 1921

LETTER I
To my dear children:

General John Simpson came from Boston when a
young man and settled in Pitt County. He married Eliza-
beth Hardee, a neighbor. His grand-father was the cele-
brated Roger Clapp, who came to Boston from England
in 1633. Roger was a great man. He was a Governor of
Castle WilHam in Boston, and a zealous patriot. His
children's names were a httle peculiar ''Wait," ''Wait-
Still," "Desire," "Experience," "Hope," "Unite," "Sup-
ply," "Elizabeth," "Preserved".

General John Simpson, was considered the most
prominent man in Eastern Carolina during Colonial
times. His life and history are on record. He lived
on a plantation six miles from Greenville, which he named
"Chatham." He was a Churchman. After the Revolu-
tionary War the Episcopal Church became very unpopu-
lar, because it was the Church of England.

Gen'l Samuel Simpson son of Gen'l John Simpson
was married four times yet he had only twenty years of
married life. His first wife was named Penelope Mcllvane
and she was the mother of Mary Nixon Simpson. She
was baptised by Bishop Ravenscoft, for whom your
Father is named.

Rev. William Phillips Biddle, was a Baptist Minister
from Princess Anne County, Virginia. While traveling
through the country when quite a young man, he met
my grandmother, Mary Nixon Simpson, and they were
married in 1810, when she was only sixteen years old.
She was the only living child of General Samuel Simpson,
and when she married he made it a condition that she
live near him.

Rev. Wilham P. Biddle when a young man made a
will. I copy a portion of it as follows:

"I will that Isabel, Owen and LilHe be made and set
free. Isabel belonged to my Grandfather, and lived with
him a faithful servant 'till his death. Owen has been a
diligent and faithful servant to me, and greatly assisted
me in my business. Lillie nursed me and belonged to my
parents. I desire her to be free. Also at the end of five
years I desire Eliza to be free. There are few such
servants for faithfulness and merit. I wish all my other
servants to be hired out for ten years, at which time I
will that all shall be free.

"1 wish that they may be tendered to the Coloniza-
tion Society of Virginia. They shall be settled in the
most eligible portion of Africa, or in the South West of
our own continent. I will that all that are twenty-one
years of age shall receive six months education".

This will was written in 1820, and was rather remark-
able, as he had a plantation with many negroes at that
time, and the question of slavery was just being agitated.

My mother was born in New Berne in a comfortable
brick residence on Craven Street in August 1812. This
was the year of our second war with England. The
family had moved temporarily from Hermitage Planta-
tion.

So far as I know my dear mjother's childhood was
uneventful; passed in a pleasant country home with many
happy gambols under the shade trees, with her sisters
and brothers. She was away from home at school only
one year, but her parents always employed a governess.
Her thirst for knowledge was great, and especially was
she versed in the Bible.

Gen'l. Samuel Simpson was very much attached to
my mother, whom he called ''Sally", and she spent many
weeks at his Fort Barnwell home. At that time her
father. Rev. William P. Biddle, had unwisely involved
himself in debt by buying much land, and was unable to
finish the education of his two oldest children, Sam and
Sally.

Her grandfather, Gen'l. Simpson, offered to educate
one, and my mother, with her usual unselfishness, gave
way to her brother, who went to Chapel Hill, and gradu-
ated there in 1832.

One of her great pleasures was going to ''Associations"
with her father, sometimes on her fleet Arabian mare,
given her by the old General, or seated beside him in an
old fashioned gig. I well remember this old gig going
to ruin behind the carriage house at "Hermitage", and
how we children enjoyed playing in it.

Elder Biddle had strict ideas of rearing children — so
different from his gentle, kindly wife. He considered it
well to discipline them, and on several occasions my
dear mother would be all ready to go to one of these "Big
Meetings", her capes, which capable hands had been
weeks in embroidering, done up, with ruffles and collars,
and put into the portmanteau, when her father would
say he had reconsidered — she must remain at home.

She was fond of dress, and always had lovely taste.
Once she wanted a bonnet which cost $16.00. Gen'l
Simpson, from whom she must have imbibed some of these
ideas told her he would give her the money if she would
make him a set of shirts — and a set of shirts in those
days were very different from the ones made in these
days. Every thread had to be pulled, and every stitch
was taken by her hands. He was a handsome old man,
with bright black eyes, and until the day of his death
wore a cue and knee breeches, silver buckles and silk
stockings. He had his sloops that sailed regularly to
Boston, and I have a number of memoranda in which
fine clothes and fine underwear, etc. were ordered, along
with groceries.

LETTER II

My mother was twenty-one years old when she married
my father, John Norcott, in 1834. He was a widower
with one son, Joe. He took his bride to Greenville,
Pitt Countj^, and there in our comfortable home, seven
years after their marriage, I was born. There was great
rejoicing at my birth, but much disappointment at the
sex. I had been long desired, and my father thought a
son of my mother's would be something very extra.

When I was three weeks old I was taken very ill,
and the nevv^ found treasure was nursed almost to the
loss of my mother's life. She was always delicate.
I never remember her except as an invalid.

The question of providing nourishment was a serious
one, and every day the carriage was brought out and
John sent into the country seven miles to a friend's farm,
who loaned a wet nurse. Finally Amy, one of our own
servants, was brought up from ''Woodlawn'', our planta-
tion half way between Greenville and Washington, bring-
ing her baby ''Hannah" with her. Amy was never
allowed to do any farm work after this, and Hannah was
reared in the house and made a pet of. I lived very
happily in Greenville the earlier years of my life. Until
I was twelve years old I had a grown nurse, ''Maria",
"Mamy Ria" I always called her. She had a daughter
"Rose'', whom she would take behind the chicken-coop,
and beat when she got mad, and I was in perfect agony
until it was over. Maria and Hollon were sisters, and
were most faithful, capable servants. We took first one
and then the other on our trips.

I was very delicate the first seven years of my life,

4

s^BLud during stormy days, and sometimes days of sunshine,
>S I was confined to the house. Many a book of pictures
iy^^ have I literally worn out. Especiallj^ do I remember
^© Dickens 'Tive Sisters of York''.

CO

^ ''Ma was a handsome woman, five feet seven inches

s^in height, very dignified and courteous in her bearing.

She had blue eyes, a straight nose, and an abundance of

x^ auburn hair. Her family had this color of hair, and

0^ when they were children were called ''The Woodpecker's

>*s Nest". She dressed with beautiful taste, and entertained

. wdth lavish hand, had an abundance of this v/orld's goods,

♦ and gave generously.

Our home in Greenville was situated on a large
square of ground, and to my childish eyes it was a para-
dise. It was an old fashioned comfortable house, with a
double piazza in front, and a large parlor on one side,
over-looking a flower garden, with a big tree in the middle,
and flowers of all kinds around. The vegetable garden
occupied almost a square, and was laid out in beds
bordered with currant and berry bushes and fruit trees.

Up in the garret was a barrel holding a most wonderful
"Wedding Tree", made of swiss and tinsel. I have never
seen anything I thought so fine. This was on the table
at different weddings, and occasionally I was allowed to
see it.

My first sorrow was the death of a red bird Joe
Norcott had given me. Joe was much older than I was;
he made a great pet of me, and was always giving me
presents. He gave me a large black doll. Our good cook,
Rachel, would get drunk occasionally. Once when she
was in that condition the nurse placed the doll in the walk
between the kitchen and the house, and you never heard
such screaming and yelling w^hen the old woman saw it.
She thought the devil had her for sure.

Joe Norcott was an exceedingly handsome man.
He v/as five feet eight inches, the height of our Father.
He had large brown eyes, brown hair, and very trim
figure. After he graduated from Princeton he studied
law under Mr. Mordecai, in Raleigh, and it was said he
and two other young men kept one tailor employed all
the time. He kept horses and a body servant, and life
was so easy for him that he learned to drink. He died
at the early age of twenty-eight years.

We left the low country in the summer, and spent the
months from July to October among the hills, generally

going to * 'Jones" and ''Shocco" Springs in Warren
County. ]\Iy father's health began to fail soon after I
was born, and the physician advised his going to the
''White Sulphur Springs" in Virginia. He began to
decline rapidly, and died on July 6th, 1845. Joe Norcott
and I walked hand in hand up the hillside to a beautifully
shaded cemetery, and there he was buried under a big oak
tree. The tomb stone was hauled from Richmond, and
is in a good state of preservation to this day.

I am very proud of my father's record. He was
what is called a "Self-made Man", and I shall be pleased
indeed if his descendants make as good a record. The
Norcotts came from Virginia at the sam.e time the
Grimes' did, and settled in Pitt County. They were
respectable people but I have not been able to trace
ancestry except through the Clarkson the mother's side,
and the Norcotts through "ff' Targe 'fortune supposed to
have been left them in Fredonia, N. Y.

When my father was two years old, and his sister
Ann six months, his father vras killed by a man nam.ed
Moore. He, hoping to better himself, had bought a
plantation near Fayetteville, and was on his way to pay
for it. The young man Moore asked to accompany him.
The first day Moore would ride up suddenly from behind,
and Mr. William Norcott would look to see what was the
matter. This became so frequent that he ceased to gaze
backward, so Moore rode up suddenly and with a club
knocked him from his horse, and killed him. The next
day some hunters found the dead body beside a ditch
bank, and the horse quietly feeding by the side of his
master. The man was captured, and the money found
under a log in a swamp, and Ivloore suffered for his crime.

This of course left the widow and her two little helpless
children in a bad way, which was made worse when she
made a very poor match with a man named Nobles
by whom she had two sons. The step-father was very
severe to little John, so when he was ten years old he
ran away to Greenville, and lived with an old cousin
named Mrs. Polly Dancy. He worked and made friends.
He was a bright little fellow, and so capable that at
the age of eighteen he was sent in charge of a vessel
to the West Indies. He had to run the blockade, and
brave many dangers, but he was successful in bringing
out a cargo of rum and molasses, which netted his em-
ployer many thousands of dollars.

After that he opened a store for general merchandise
in Greenville and once made a large sum in salt. He
bought the Woodlawn plantation of 4,000 acres, and
bought negroes of good character to work it. He was an
ardent Whig, and had great influence in the elections.
Twice a year my mother made out her list of all kinds of
delicious West India preserves, guava jellies, etc., for
her pantry, and sent to Nev7 York for them in the order
for the store.

My mother was ver}^ dignified in every way, but I
inherited my father's gay disposition. I have thought in
her management of me she did not make due allowance
for that, but she was always doing good. She never
turned a beggar from her door — she was a most faithful
mistress, reading her Bible and praying with her servants.
She had ample means, which v/ere used to the Glory of
God, and in charity. She was always doing for her
brothers and sisters. Mr. Lovejoy, who taught your
father and his brothers in Raleigh, first taught in Green-
ville. He was induced to come to Greenville through the
instrumentality of my father, on Joe Norcott's account.
Having such a good school ''Mother" took advantage of it,
and her sisters, Elizabeth, Susan, and Anne, and Frank
and Henry, her brothers, had successively, a warm
welcome and a happy time with her during their school
days.

LETTER III

We did not remain many years in our home in Green-
ville, but moved to Woodlav/n, and from there to dear old
Washington, where my happiest days v/ere passed.

I wish I could im.press upon you the delights of plan-
tation life during slavery. We had a great many negroes,
and they were all treated kindly. It was the exception
to hear of unkind masters. It would have been very
foolish to mistreat property that could be converted into
money. We never dreamed of being afraid, and during
the Civil War when the masters were at the Front we
have yet to hear of the first instance where the slaves
behaved badly.

When I was a child I had a pony, of course, but being
wild a gentle black mule was substituted in his place,
and so much pleasure was she to me that I have always
felt kindly disposed to the mule creation. I would get

upon her back, and with several small negroes following
to wait on me I would fly up and down the plantation
roads, sometimes going by the mill and through the
stream, which I thought great fun.

''Woodlawn" Plantation was so large that there were
many roads through it, and the negro cabins were scat-
tered in different convenient places. Old Cat, the
colored over-seer, occupied a two story house with garden
attached. His wife did not work in the field, but remamed
at home, raising poultry, vegetables, etc. for herself.
Old Cat came up every Saturday night to report progress.
He openly said he would harbor runaway slaves, and we
did not say anything to the contrary. Then there was
a long alley in which there were a dozen cabins, shady
trees, and a well of delicious cool water. Old Aunt
Rachel occupied the middle cabin, and the babies were
brought to her in the morning to take care of while the
m.others worked in the fields. I used to go down and
nurse them by the hour, taking first one and then another
from the cradle. All the cabins had gardens attached,
and there was a large place where rutabaga and collards
were planted. These the servants were at liberty to
help themselves to. Sunday they always had a fine
dinner, often company from the neighboring farms, and
a nice fat chicken graced every table. The looms were
kept busy all the time. I wish I could show you the
heavy woolen cloth woven. The home-spun was bought
by the bolt. I watched the flats loaded with ^ corn
and cotton from the big barn. I was ''Little Missis" to
all of them, and it is a wonder I did not get spoilt with so
much attention, but I was so full of life I could not take
time for adulation. What a time I had rolling down
great hills of cotton seed! And getting the driver to let
me drive the mules around the gin! And how we did
enjoy ''hog killing" and sausage making! Great pots of
lard in the yard cooking, great blocks of wood with meat
on them, and women chopping up sausage meat! We
had no cutters in those days! Then sheep shearing,
and watching the looms weave thick woolen cloth for
the hands! But of all times on a plantation Christmas
is the best. ■

Not being strong enough to manage so large a planta-
tion my mother hired out the able bodied men, about
thirty or more, to work in the turpentine forests of
Georgia, receiving from two hundred and fifty to three
hundred dollars apiece for them for a year. They

returned at Christmas, dressed in very fine clothes,
alvv'ays with a watch and chain, and money in their
pockets, made from doing extra work. Their sweet-
hearts and wives were ready to receive them, and they
often frohcked all night long.

]\Iy pleasure was greatly lessened by having no
companions. I dug up the parsley bed looking for a
little brother, and kept old Jack, the carpenter, in a
constant state of misery by dulling his hatchet in digging
at old hollow stumps looking for the same baby, but I
never found one. As soon as I heard of the advent of a
little darky down I went and begged to be allowed to
name it, which request was often granted, and that is
the way I learned to sew, by making clothes for them.

Sometimes we would row down Trantus Creek in our
large boat, which Tony, our milk and butter man, had
charge of. This was a lovely row from ''Woodlawn'' to
the Grist Farm, and we would spend the night there,
and have a gay time with the Grist children with games
and dances.

I was so happy in Washington. My teacher was
Mrs. Worthington. I was very quick about everj^thing
but arithmetic. She seemed to think I was a wild child,
as indeed I was. I loved to play with the boys, and
such nice boys they were. Johnnie and Jimmy Hoyt,
Allen and Wily Grist, Adam Tredwell, Jimmie and Willie
Howard — Jimmy Howard was killed in the war, and the
others have paid the debt I shall soon have to pay.
Sallie Howard was three weeks older than I, and Oh!
what an unfortunate three weeks! I had to give way on
all occasions. My dear friend married as I did and had
a large family. She left us a few years ago, but I had
the comfort of seeing her several tim_es during her last
illness.

Often on bright beautiful Saturdays Tony would
come wath his boat, then ma, a crowd of girls, and I
would go and spend the day at Woodlawn. A carriage
would meet us at the landing, and such a busy, happy
tirne we would have fixing the lunch and so on. The
dairy, which stood under a huge oak tree, near the ''Great
House" door was full of milk, butter and cream, and this
was freely given us. Oh! the charming plantation days,
never to return! Oh! the tender friendship between
servant and master, so little understood!

10

LETTER IV

I don't believe any modern watering place can compare
to the old fashioned ''Jones" and ''Shocco'' Springs in
Warren County. The refined, agreeable company one
met there, and the highbred women, one does not always
meet with these days.

Frank Johnson's band was a feature of the place.
He was a wonderful musician, and had seven sons equally
gifted. He was a slave and hired his time. I think I
can hear his ''Swing Corners", "Ladies to the right,"
"Sashae all of you".

My mother and Mrs. Howard were handsome widows
and great friends. They were always together. Ma
had a number of offers of marriage, and sometimes the
beaux would make me the medium of tender messages.
One, a Dr. Green made quite a pet of me. Oscar Alston
would come to the Springs, and put a table on the lawn,
and display his toys and candy. So on one occasion
when he had done this I saw Dr. Green pass and asked
him for some candy. He gave it, of course, but I had no
sooner put the candy into my mouth when it began to
taste bitter. I knew what to expect from my mother
when she found out what I had done, and I was not
disappointed.

This Oscar Alston was a remarkable negro, as was also
Frank Johnson. Oscar married and had a large family.
He sent his children to Ohio to be educated. One, a son,
was an Episcopal clergyman. The girls were taught music,
and when I was six years old my mother spent three months
in Philadelphia under Dr. Hodge, Bettie Alston went as
our maid, and we got to respect the Alstons very much.

There was a scuppernong vine covering two acres at
Jones Springs. I have never tasted such delicious grapes.
But once they were not so good. I had on a pretty new
dress, and was on the top of the arbor when I tore my
dress so badly that not even my faithful Hollon could
mend it. I had on a lovely white dress on another
occasion which Hollon had spent weeks in making; the
insertion put in by "Ladder stitch" and "Herring bone".
Mother was already in the carriage at Jones Springs, to
return to Shocco Springs, six miles off (we were spending
the day at Jones Springs), when I could not be found.
Finally I was discovered, playing on an old brush heap
over an unused v/ell, and the beautiful dress torn all to
pieces. You can well imagine I was silent during the
homeward drive.

11

LETTER V

^^Tien I was thirteen years old my mother married
Mr. S. B. Carraway of Monticello Plantation, ten miles
from Kinston. He lived four years, and most of that
time I was away at boarding school but passed my
winter vacations at Monticello, and my summers at
Brandon, our summer home seven miles from Raleigh.
My step-father was very kind to me, as was also his son
Willie, sixteen years old. We both had beautiful ponies,
and the long delightful rides we took, generally getting up
at five o'clock in the morning, and coming home to a
breakfast of fruit, berries, broiled chicken, waffles, beaten
biscuit, such as no one but a Southern Cook can make.

Just after my mother's marriage to Mr. Carraway she
had a severe attack of illness, and the physician said she
must go to the White Sulphur Springs, the same place
where my father died. I knew very Httle about books,
having lost much time from traveHng about, so it was
decided not to take me. The only school open at that
time, July, was in Raleigh, kept by a minister and his wife.
It was our first parting, and we felt dreadfully. She
wanted to leave Hollon with me, but it was thought best
not to do so, so Mother in her distress asked the teacher
if I got sick to let her know, and if I died in no case to
have me buried until she arrived.

After reaching the Springs my mother had a relapse,
and for days her life was despaired of. Just then I
heard a whisper among the girls that she had told the
teacher something about my dying, and had even selected
the dress I was to wear in case such an event occurred. I
had been very much petted, and was very unhappy, and
this rumor was very painful to me. As I would take
each dress out of the trunk I would v/onder if that was
the one I should wear in my coffin. The whole trouble
was that the teacher had received the impression that we
were only using her school as a convenience, and was
much incensed at the idea. She wrote a letter that she
wished me to be removed as I was disorderly. My
mother had returned then, and it was only a few weeks
before the closing of school. She handed the letter to
her husband, who was a good man, and he read it to me.
I began to cry and begged him to reserve the letter, and
send it when I went home, as I feared for the consequence
to Mother in her enfeebled condition. I think he was
very glad to do this, and in a few days when I returned
home a complimentary letter was written. I was then

12

sent to the Richmond Female Institute, and I spent three
years there very happily — made friends with teachers and
pupils. But the person who had most influence over me,
and had more to do with moulding my character after
my mother was an English lady named Kingsford, who
had a select school in Washington, D. C. This school
was limited to twenty boarders and the same number of
day scholars. I was so happy at this school; I formed so
many charming acquaintances and friends. I correspon-
ded with some of them for many years. We were allowed
to visit one Saturday in each month. I certainly enjoyed
that. Then we went to President Buchannan's **Levees",
and to the Capitol, and other places of interest, and took
long walks in every part of the city.

I always had a sweetheart on hand. I recall one,
Johnny Potts, with whom I was much in love. When I
was about ten years old he sent me flowers every week,
and strange to say I never see a white narcissus now but
his pleasant face rises before me. He was killed in our
Civil War. Then I fell much in love with a nephew of
Mr. Corcoran, the Washington banker; quite as much as
David Copperfield was with Dora. Even the sun shone
brighter when this Sweetheart was by.

We had a teacher at this school, a Mrs. Thompson, a
tall, gawky graduate of Vassar. She could do nothing
with these bright Southern girls. What jokes we did
play upon her! One night when Mrs. Kingsford was
gone we put paper over our combs, and gave out the most
wild music. The faster we played the madder she got.
She had a time with the girls and their sweethearts.
One night we got nicely caught. The boys (Columbia
students) were serenading us, and singing ''Star of the
Evening, Beautiful Star" and ''Annie Laurie'', and so on.
W^e were at the window making frantic efforts to wave,
when the door opened, and in walked Madam Kingsford!
Silence was supreme, and then we all made a rush for our
beds. Fanny Fox, my bed-fellow, popped in too hurriedly,
and the slats fell out of the bed on to the floor with such
a crash! This friend of mine was from Mississippi, and
hved next door to Jacob Thompson, then Secretary of
the Interior, and residing at that time in Washington.
They had an only son, Macon, a very nice boy, but much
disfigured by being salivated when a little fellow. His
mouth was all twisted, and he was compelled to eat with
his fingers. He never had been in love with anyone but
this girl, and after she left school he married her, and

13

Kate Thompson, their daughter was one of the most
beautiful women in the south.

I can never forget Mrs. Kingsford's pie plant and
rhubarb pies, especially as each pie was cut into eight
pieces, the old doctor refusing to make them larger.
Nor can I ever forget her plum puddings, which were
dehcious. She had an English recipe, from which she
would not part. She always made twelve, and we had
one every Sunday.

The box I received from home that Christmas was
something to be remembered. Gold and silver cake,
fruit cake, a great package of candy, parched peanuts
already shelled, home made sausage, which I bribed the
cook to broil for me, jelly, and everything I could wish
for. The box lasted during the holidays, and with every
taste of the food I felt how rich I was in my mother's love.

Several times Mrs. Kingsford took some of the girls
to Baltimore to spend Sunday, and we took a never-to-
be-forgotten trip to Mt. Vernon on a big steamer, and
met a funny old preacher, who told us many things we
did not know.

Then our commencement at the Smnthsonian Institute,
where I made the one great triumph of my life, very
unexpected, and wholly undeserved, and due only to the
fact that the subject ''A peep through Time's Spy glass",
was a pleasant hit at the girls. Part of the program was
a flower play in which I was a poppy; then the prizes, in
which I received Jeremy Taylor's works. This was in
1857.

During the session my step-father died. My mother
and I spent the following summer very quietly and
pleasantly at ''Brandon" our Wake County summer home.
My pony ''Charlie" was a gi^eat pleasure to me. I rode
miles every day. In the fall we moved to New Berne
where we have since lived, except the four years of war.

I had a delightful winter in New Berne; was invited
out constantly, and had company at home. These new
fashioned dances were not in vogue then, I am thankful
to say. We danced the Virginia reel, the Cotillion,
waltzed, and played such as Grand Multa, stage-coach,
and other games, and always finished off with a delicious
supper.

I had met your Father at the Raleigh Fair, and had
engaged myself to him before the summer which Mamma
and I and our maid Hollon spent at the Virginia Springs.

We took the South Side Raih'oad at Petersburg, and had
such a lovely trip viewing mountains and valleys, and
laughing at Hollon, who took advantage of our passing
through the tunnels to ''dip" her much enjoyed snuff.

First we went to the Alleghany Springs. Fortunately
a cadet who lived near took a fancy to me, and what
wonderful rides I had on his horse, raised in these
mountains, and he riding one equally fine.

Here we met a family named Prescott from Louisiana.
We all became so fond of each other that we spent the
whole summer together. Where my mother and I went
they did also.

We were enchanted with the Yellow Sulphur Springs—
the must lovely spot in all that lovely country, and there
we met a family of Prestons, native people, who had a
large stock farm, and entertained delightfully. The son,
Walter, was very fond of me, and we visited them in their
lovely mountain home.

I got very friendly with a gentleman from Petersburg,
who drove a span of spirited horses, and he allowed me
to drive them. The owner's name is long since forgotten,
but the essence of the drives rem^ains.

Louis Prescott and I had a most desperate flirtation.
He was engaged to a girl from Louisiana, and I to your
Father. He became so persistent and I so bewildered
had I been a Romanist I would have sought the cloisters.

In October we went to New York, and stopped in the
famous old St. Nicholas Hotel. This was essentially a
Southern Hotel, and we met many of our Springs ac-
quaintances. We spent some weeks in New York.
My mother was under the care of Dr. Bedford. How
happy these days were! Free from care! How thought-
less I was! I took pleasure in everything. I ordered my
bridal trousseau then, and what charms of beauty my
dresses were and how unconscious I was of any charm,
if I had any, or anything else but to be happy all the day
long.

LETTER VI

On November 24th, 1859 I was married in our home at
New Berne to your father, Henry Ravenscroft Bryan of
Raleigh, by the Rev. Thomas Skinner of Raleigh. We took
a southern bridal trip, remaining two months. ^ ''Cotton
was king" in those days, and we considered buying a plan-
tation further south, and moving out there. After looking
about a great deal we concluded the "Old North State"

15

was good enough, especially as we encountered one of the
usual yearly ''freshets", and saw miles of the country
under water. The steamer made her way guided by the
trees on each side of the river.

So we returned home and with some money my dear
Father had left me we bought the "Clermont" plantation.

We spent several days in Memphis, going from there
on the Steamer Ingorma a five day's journey. There
were six brides and grooms along. John Hines was one
of the guests. He was your father's great friend, and
we all got very friendly, indeed.

I was much disappointed at the appearance of the
''Father of Waters". It cannot compare to our own
beautiful Neuse. It is much narrower, deeper, and the
waters a cruel dark color. How many beating hearts,
and happy voices have been stilled beneath its waves!
There was an exceedingly attractive and beautiful girl
from South Carolina, named Victoria Jordan, in New York
getting her trousseau at the same time I was. She
followed on the same route a week later, and the steamer
took fire. Her husband refused to leave her, and hand
in hand both jumped to a watery grave.

We had a pleasant stay in New Orleans at the St.
Charles. We went to the French theater, and got a
scowl from Louis Prescott, who occupied a seat near,
saw the slave market, and the levees. The river being
higher than the surrounding ground is kept in place by
huge embankments, which require constant watchfulness,
and much labor.

The trip from New Orleans by boat to Mobile was very
interesting. We passed the place on which the island
stood many years before, which was destroyed by a tidal
wave. The large hotel was filled with guests; it was a
gala night, there was dancing and revelry in the building.
The dancers noticed the planks of the floor begin to move,
the water to cover their feet, and before morning there
was not a sign of hotel or guest; all had disappeared;
beautiful girls, babies, mothers, all answered the last call
before the morning light.

I was charmed with Mobile — wide shady streets, and
the glimmering bay in the distance; the sunshine and
flowers, and sweet shady homes. I saw Edith Whitfield
here. Afterwards she married a Yankee General.

The trip up the Alabama and Tombigbee Rivers was
also full of interest. We stopped at Selma, Montgomery,

16

and with your father's sister Mrs. Speight, who lived on a
large plantation with her husband. We also stopped at
Demopolis, and made General Nathan and Gaius Whitfield
a visit. Everything was in grand style, and they treated us
royally. Gen'l Whitfield was a musicial genius, and had
invented a huge kind of piano which sounded something
like a calliope.

But after awhile our pleasant visit ended, and we
returned home, had a reception, and settled down to the
every day life of married people.

On October 3rd, 1860 my little boy, John Norcott, was
born. I was delighted with the little fellow. He filled
out my measure of love. We had ''Mammy Ria" to
nurse him, and I stood over the crib in admiration, as
did also my mother and ''Mammy Ria''. We watched
each smile and look of love; watched his development,
and thought him a most wonderful child. My mother
sent to New York and bought him a most beautiful
white embroidered cloak and cap. Your father had his
crib made in Baltimore. Mr. Seth Atmore gave him a
silver cup, which was stolen during the war, and after
many years recovered. His baby carriage was on the
last boat to arrive before the blockade.

The winter of 1861 was a most anxious one. We
could not tell what would be the result of so much agita-
tion. In the meantime your father was making
"Clermont" a model farm. A number of nice houses were
built, the fine brick residence repaired, stock of every
kind bought, and a large crop of corn and cotton planted.
The product of the first year would have been 300 bales
of cotton and 1,000 barrels of corn, besides peas, potatoes,
etc. All this, of course, involved great expense, which
could have been easily paid from the first year's produce,
but the Yankees took New Berne, and we had to abandon
our farm. We lost everything. The negroes were freed,
the houses burnt, the brick house, which was built of
bricks brought from England, pulled down, trees cut
down, and the plantation left a barren wilderness. The
cotton was used as a barricade at Union Point, the corn
fed the Yankee soldiers, and our legacy was debts.

My mother had a long attack of illness this winter,
and our chief pleasure was in watching the development
of my little son.

George Bryan was stationed in New Berne at this time,
and stayed with us. We learned to love and appreciate
his beautiful Christian character. In July '61 ma,

17

Baby, "Mammy Ria" and I went to KittrelFs Springs
near Raleigh for several weeks. George was at training
camp three miles from there, and we saw a great deal of
him. He was one of the bravest, and gentlest boys I
ever knew. He had graduated at Chapel Hill at the age
of eighteen, and had immediately been offered a Greek
tutorship. He gave this up to become a lieutenant in
the Confederate Cavalry. He would often ride from his
camp to the springs, and spend an hour with us. Often
when I went to _my room at night, after having danced
all the evening in the ball-room my mother would say:
*'We also have had a pleasant visit. George has been here".

We stopped a little while at Wake Forest, and came
home to find affairs still more unsettled. Your father
concluded it was useless to try to make another crop, so
early in '62 he took a good many of the negroes to Wake
County. In March things were so threatening it was
thought best for as many of the women and children to
leave as could conveniently do so. We packed up some
bedding, trunks, etc., and went to Company Shops, now
called Burhngton. We left our homes handsomely
furnished, a year's provisions in the pantry and smoke-
house, cordials, wines, preserves, pickles, smoked hams,
and an abundance of everything, bed clothes, table Hnen,
and everything required for a home including a handsome
book-case filled with all kinds of books. The furniture
and many other things were sent north by the soldiers,
a package of love letters opened, read and laughed at.

We had two bed-rooms on the front of the house at
Burhngton, looking over the piazza and railroad tracks.
Our excess baggage was stored somewhere. My mother,
always an invahd, was taken very ill when we got to the
Shops, and the baby took the whooping cough on the
cars, which was followed by measles and then slow fever,
which ended his life when he was twenty-one months old,
July 8th, 1862. He was buried in the cemetery at Greens-
boro, and we have never been able to find the sacred
ashes, so much burying there during the war.

Burlington was a pleasant country village, and
Fannie was born there. I had my bed placed by the
window so I could look out and many a sad sight have I
witnessed — one poor boy, every bone in his body crushed
in a mill nearby was brought and placed under the
railroad shelter. His heart-broken mother stood over
him until the end came.

After we all got better we went to Lexington, and

18

stayed several months. The refugees in some instances
were not cordially received by the up-country people,
and had it not been for the yellow fever, which was so
fatal in New Berne in 1863 it would have been better for us
to have remained at home.

LETTER VII

After Norcott's death, and so much sickness and
trouble, we determined to get nearer home, so as we
could not rent a house in Raleigh we went to your Grand-
father Bryan's little farm four miles from there. The
house was a log cabin with a shed, and a small piazza in
front, with a half -story over the main room. My dear
mother occupied this little room and it soon partook of
her presence. The white pine table standing between
two little four pane windows had a dimity cover, her
wrapper and slippers nearby, her Bible and "Jay" on a
stand near the bed, her sweet individuality was always
felt. I loved to go to her room and converse with her.

I rather liked this country life. We had daily com-
munication with town. News of terrible battles in which
our friends and relatives were either wounded or killed
kept us very unhappy. Your father could not fight in
the war ownng to a physical disability, but he was heart
and soul with the ''Lost Cause", and aided in every way.
Indeed, when my mother with her strong business sense
suggested converting the negroes into real estate he
offered objections, so we ''risked all, and lost all". We
cut our carpets up and sent them to the soldiers, and
comforts and blankets, and we were always doing some-
thing for them. My mother, and your grandmother
Bryan knitted numberless pairs of socks. Their busy
fingers were always at work. I made a good deal of
money myself, of which I was very proud. I had a fine
suit of brown homespun, woven in our loom. I had some
bolts of yellow homespun, which I exchanged to great
advantage. I made neck ties and fancy things and sold
them, and often had several thousand dollars in Con-
federate money in my purse. I cut a Marshall's badge
used at Chapel Hill and made money out of that. I had
a last, and made Fannie many, many pairs of shoes — out
of goat skin, bound with ribbon. I dressed her very fine
out of my scrap trunk. She had pretty curls so attracted
attention.

One night at the plantation we had a fearful experience.
My mother came down from her little upstairs room,

19

and waked us up saying she heard strange noises in the
yard. The negroes were having a gay time singing
''Hurrah! Hurrah! we are free, we are free!'' swinging
hands and dancing around the tree, and we thought we
heard the fife and drum. We got up, dressed quickly,
made a fire in the huge fire-place, covered up the four-
pane windows, and sat down to wait developments. Noth-
ing happened, and morning dawned bright and rosy with
no evidence of the night of mortal agony we had passed
through. We found the negroes were having an unusual
time with their neighbors and had enjoyed their frohc
irnxUiensely. The fife we heard was the creaking of the
well bucket in drawing water.

Generally once a week your grandfather and grand-
mother Bryan spent the day with us. My dear mother
enjoyed their company very much. We had plenty of
visitors in our log cabin home. We bought some coffee
and sugar which we doled out, substituting parched rye
and sweet potatoes ground up. We resorted to all kinds
of things to make good things to eat and used so much
sorghum I can't bear the taste of it to this day. Our
most frequent visitor was Fred, "Freddie" as his family
called him. He was your father's youngest brother, and
a likable, intelhgent, handsome lad. He and my mother
played back-gammon by the hour — a fine game but not
much in vogue now. Fred before this had been sent to
Col. Tew's school in Hillsboro, but the ^ hard barracks
life was too much for his delicate constitution, and he
contracted diabetes. He then went to Chapel Hill, the
last of eight brothers who had graduated there with
distinction. He easily took first honors, but his health
failed so that his parents brought him home. This was
in the height of the war and proper medicines could not
be procured. He continued his studies under good old
Dr. Mason, and it was then that we saw so much of him.
He was very fond of coming to the farm, and spending
several days at a time.

We finally found a four-room cottage in Raleigh, and
moved there, where we saw much more of Fred.

War seemed to derange every part of society. Carnage
and death in the army — sickness and trouble at home.
Scarlet fever then broke out in the country and got among
our negroes. At that particular time your father was
ill in bed, and my dear mother was visiting her sister in
Halifax. I was sitting by the fire, holding Fannie, a
baby of eight months, in my lap, when Oily, one of the

20

servants, came in with a sick baby to be doctored. I put
my little girl down, and took this one in my arms, and
just as I did so it died. Oily screamed. I was completely
unnerved, and felt I should lose Fannie also, as I had lost
Norcott. The little negro child had died of scarlet fever.
We immediately called up Stephen and sent him to
Raleigh to find a boarding house. There were children
at the Bryan home, so we could not take a scarlet fever
suspect there. Stephen returned at night fall, un-
successful.

The next morning the horses were put to the carriage,
and brought to the door. I hastily packed some things
in my portmanteau, and with nurse and baby started out, I
knew not where. I passed through Raleigh, and took
the road to Wake Forrest. My kind aunt Sue Cobb was
*'refugeeing'' four miles from the college. I was going
to continue my journey until someone took me in. When
I drew up to her door I sent for her to come to the carriage,
and explained the situation. She also had children, but
before I finished her kind arms were outstretched, and
her sweet voice bade me welcome. I shut the baby and
nurse up for several days, and as no scarlet fever developed
we became quite gay, and had a charming visit. We
had several notes for small sums which Dr. Cobb owed us.
These I gladly sent with my letter of thanks.

We found the four-room cottage which we took in
Raleigh, better than the log cabin. We had to build a
log pantry, and the kitchen was on the next lot. The
Legislature was in session that winter, and you would be
surprised at the number we stowed away on a cot in the
parlor.

There had been a terrible battle at Gettysburg, and
our bravest and best fell like sheep. Collin Hughes,
Jacob Brooksfield, Harry Burgwyn, Jimmy Howard, and
many others of our friends were killed or desperately
wounded. James and Sam Biddle were doing valiant
service in Virginia. George Bryan was taken prisoner.
He had received a severe wound in the head, and was left
for dead on the field; he crav/led under a stone wall, and
was there captured by a Yankee soldier, and taken to
Washington, D. C, and put in prison. He suffered a
great deal with his head, and portions of the bone were
taken out. Some kind ladies sent him flowers. He was
next^ taken to Johnson's Island. He passed through
Baltimore, but was not allowed to speak to his brother,
William Shepard Bryan, who lived there. The prison

21

was on an inhospitable island in Lake Erie. It was
made of boards running up and down, and the bleak
wind whistled through them. George would have suc-
cumbed to the cold had it not been for a very heavy
overcoat his brother Frank sent him, which he wore day
and night. There was a small stove in the middle of the
room, with bunks built all around the sides. Some of
the prisoners sat near the stove, others sat on a bench
a little further removed, and still others would walk
around until the first were warmed. If there was an
unusually warm spell the men made pillows of sticks of
wood, v/hich were burnt when it grew colder. The fare
was miserable. Joe Hellen told m.e he saw two soldiers
fight over a beef bone until one killed the other.

All these troubles had produced softening of the brain
in your grandfather. Charlotte Grimes lost her little
baby, and was constantly anxious about her husband,
General Bryan Grimes. He was in the front everywhere;
was said to be the hero of a hundred battles. Mr.
Speight had his only son killed in a skirmish, and he
himself died at Bladen Springs, Alabama in 1863. Your
cousin, Gen'l Johnston Pettigrew, had been killed at Fal-
ling Waters and every day we received an account of the
wounding or death of some dear acquaintance or friend.

Freddie faded day by day. He was the ''Benjamin"
of his family, and everybody was tender and kind to him,
but the disease could not be controlled, and he passed
into the ''Great Beyond" when he was seventeen years old.

Fabius Haywood was a prisoner at Johnson's Island
at the time George was. His mother wrote him Fred
was dead, and it was several days before George was
allowed to speak to Haywood to ascertain which one of
his brothers it was.

Five months after this my dear son was born, and I
gladly named him Fred for his gifted young uncle.

LETTER VIII

Efforts were being made to get George exchanged.
I begged he might remain where he was, although un-
comfortable. He was safe, but he was finally exchanged,
and we were very proud of this soldier boy, so tall and
handsome in the beautiful Confederate uniform, trimmed
with gold braid and bright brass buttons, and a black
plume in his hat. Well might his family rejoice at such
a son. We tenderly lifted the brown hair, and gazed at

22

the wound a little to the right side of his head. It was as
long as a finger, and as wide, and the bone had been shot
away. Coming into a hot climate the sun affected the
place. In vain we appealed to Dr. Johnson to give him
a home appointment during the summer, but he would not.
He was as merciless to his own son-in-law. George was
sent to Richmond to fight in the battles which were
raging around there. He met with action, was taken
sick, and sent into a hospital, from which he issued on
that fatal 16th day of August 1864. He mounted his
black horse and rode to death, being shot by a mmne
ball just over the heart. He fell from his horse ex-
claiming ''I am killed, boys, but we have taken the
works". The telegram arrived about dinner time, and
such a grief stricken family. Your father went on for
the remains. Mr. Patterson, a clergyman accompanied
him to the battle-field. There in a corner of the fence,
with his oil coat and only six inches of dirt to cover
him, with only the birds to sing a requiem, and the leaves
to wave in pity, lay one of the bravest hearts that offered
up a life for a lost but true cause. He was brought home
and tenderly laid by the side of his young brother.

About this time we found another house in Raleigh,
more convenient, opposite the Episcopal Church, and we
lived there until after the surrender.

Timies became more gloomy, and when the poor little
Junior Reserves, boys of sixteen, v/ere drafted, I lost
heart. It certainly was pitiful to see the dear boys, so
hopeful and glad, drilling, and marching so proudly to
the tune of ''Dixie", some of them never to return to
their mothers and homes.

Raleigh was filled with soldiers and the churches and
every available space were turned into hospitals. Being
nearest I visited the wounded at the Episcopal Church.
Many poor men were on the narrow benches, some in
high delirium, some with broken bones, som^e even in the
agony of death. A young soldier of New Orleans died
just then. None knew his name. As the coffin was about
to be closed over the face of "Somebody's darhng," an old
lady shpped forward and said "Let me kiss him. for his
mother". There was a profound silence and in every
eye a tear.

Volumes could be written of pathetic and heart rending
incidents during our four years civil war. Death hung
like a heavy pall over us, food and clothes scarce, and the
merciless foe still killing our men.

23

Although we were becoming less hopeful, yet the fall
of the Confederacy was unexpected at last. I can never
forget the day we heard the sad news. It was after
breakfast — a bright day. A number of ladies and children
had collected in the public square around the capitol in
Raleigh. We had heard so many disquieting rumors that
to remain at home was impossible. Suddenly there was
a great commotion. Some one said: ''Lee has sur-
dered". Such consternation on the faces of the people!
Then as the news became more general such weeping and
wringing of hands! Such heavy hearts! Privation, sor-
row, death, and now defeat and poverty!

Soon our own troops began to pass through; weary,
dirty, hungry fellows. Everyone that could, fed them.
They were not allowed to stop, but as they passed our gate
we handed them bread and ham. They were marching
to the tune of ''Dixie", the war song that we vainly
thought was to lead them to victory. As our soldiers
retreated the Yankees pursued. One reckless Confederate
captain from Georgia was in the rear guard. He turned
and fired on a soldier, then put spurs to his horse, and
would have escaped but the horse stumbled and fell,
and he was captured. The next m.orning under a guard
of soldiers I saw him carried by our house to a field back
of your grandfather's home, and hung to the limb of a
tree under which your uncles and aunts had played in
childhood.

My mother was very ill at this time. I had to pass
to her room from mine through a passage-way that had a
glass door at the end. It was about three o'clock in the
night when she called me. I glanced toward the door,
and peeping through was the face of a red-haired Yankee
soldier. I was frightened so I could hardly stand, and
I cannot recollect to this day, which door I finally opened.

We have cause to be proud of the war record of my
cousins, James and Sam Biddle. Sam entered the army
at the age of seventeen as a private, and finally ended as
Captain. He was in the battle of New Berne, and was
promoted for gallantry on the field. Jimmy belonged to
the First Regiment of North Carolina, and fought through
the whole four years of the war. He was in General
Lee's army under Stuart, and Wade Hampton. He was
in the battles around Richmond. His command fired the
last gun in the war. He was promoted from private to
lieutenant. He was in several raids around Martinsburg

and Winchester, and on one occasion his commander
captured 2,900 cattle.

We had begun to get quite comfortably fixed in our
home when Raleigh was captured. We had to ask for a
guard or our house would have been sacked; as it was
everything was taken that could be. Our fine cow was
killed, and only a beef-steak cut from her, also our nice
horse, leaving a colt, which we fed from a bottle. Every-
thing from our small farm near Raleigh was gone, and
the negroes free, of course. With two little children I had
my hands full. I had to accept a lot of rails which were
stolen from someone's fence. I had a good garden, and
sold ten dollars worth of vegetables which I gave to your
father to return to New Berne to see if anything was left.
The first thing he did was to get Mr. John C. Washington
of Kinston, an old and influential citizen out of jail.

We returned home in the Fall and boarded on George
Street, near the old Palace stables, now a comfortable
residence. I had no housekeeping to do, the winter was
mild, and I spent most of it taking walks with the children.

We returned to Raleigh for the summer, and then
settled permanently the following fall in New Berne
paying eighty dollars a month for our house.

LETTER IX

In January my pretty name-sake, Minnie, was born,
and that winter Judge Bryan and family of Baltimore
spent six weeks with us. As things were prosperous
with us then we kept carriage and horses. The horses
were named Hampton and Ashby after the Confederate
Generals. Stephen, our old driver had charge, and
Nellie, who also had belonged to us, was nurse. We
moved aeain to another house, and it was here that
Sam Biddle died. After going through the war with such
credit he succumed to malarial fever after only a few days
illness. His father. Colonel Samuel Simpson Biddle, was
the gentlest and kindest of men. I have the most
pleasant recollections of him during my childhood.
Just after we returned to New Berne at the close of the
war I was told of a dream a northern soldier had about
the brick house on the Clermont plantation. In colonial
times the place belonged to Madam Moore; the house
was a very grand mansion for those days. Madam
Moore was said to have married three times, once for
love, once for money, and once for ambition. She was a
great ''Lady''; had a row boat, manned by six oarsmen

25

dressed in livery to row her to New Berne. She went
to the Episcopal Church, and had what is called a ''Stall".
Washington and Monroe occupied seats in this stall when
they came to New Berne. This plantation afterwards be-
longed to the Speights. Two governors of North Carolina
are buried there. But for the dream — this soldier, who
had just arrived from New York had never seen this place.
He, in his dream, saw the house clearly before his eyes,
and was told to go into the cellar and look behind a loose
brick in the fire-place and he would see a key; to take
the key— at this point his dream was inteiTupted, but he
was so impressed by what he had felt that he obtained
permission to visit the place, and found everything
exactly as he had dream.ed. The story is this, that the
key unlocked a strong box beneath the cellar bricks, in
which valuables were kept. There were no banks when
this house was built, and rich people had to m.ake a place
for money, jewels, etc.

There is an incident which I desire you to remember
in these pages. The capture of New Berne was sudden
at the end. Fighting was on the Beaufort road, and our
soldiers were in that direction. Word was received to
prepare extra food as our soldiers would be tired and
hungry. So there were very few homes in which extra
dinners were not being cooked. Just at dinner time,
however, the tide turned, and the town was flooded with
Yankee soldiers ready to eat all the good things prepared
for our men. Many of the people were so frightened
they ran out of their homes, and left the doors wide open,
and I hear the enemy had a royal feast. Everything was
at the mercy of the foe. Our home, of course, shared the
same fate, and in their madness books and furniture were
scattered around. Our large family bible was picked up
by a sailor who took it to New Jersey, and it was put on
a shelf at his house where it remained many years. His
sister was librarian in a nearby town, and persuaded him
to find the owners. A number of letters were written
and finally one fell into my hands. I wrote and received
the book, and have given it to my grandson. Jack London.
This was fifty years after the war.

Reconstruction times were horrible in every way.
Your father had begun to practice law, but it was hard
work to make both ends meet. I had been reared so
luxuriously I did not know where to begin. The greatest
heartache of this trying time was caused by the fact that
my feeble mother needed many things I could not afford

20

to give. Without my knowledge she sold a beautiful
woven white bedspread with hand-made fringe, to an old
auctioneer for $5.00. It would easily bring a hundred in
the northern markets. One day I went to see an old colored
woman, Lucinda Stanley. She had been old Eubank's
cook and had fallen heir to this spread. She was a
very respectful, humble servant, and I have always liked
her. She gave this spread to my great grand-daughter,
Frances Claypoole, being the fourth in name from my
mother, and when Lucinda had the little girl hold out her
arms and receive the gift I was touched beyond measure.
Tears came unbidden to my eyes when I thought of what
we had gone through, and what self denial we had prac-
tised, and after fifty years I had learned of this piece of
sacrifice on the part of my mother.

The after effects of the war were as trying as the war
itself. We moved several times, and at last bought a
home and were very glad to move there. My little
family consisted of Fannie, Fred, Minnie and Henry,
and in 1871 my blue-eyed son Shepard entered the family.
When Henry was three months old we moved to this
house, and have lived here ever since. The cedar trees
in the yard, and the beautiful river in front, and the
happy voices of children were a part of our life. Kate,
Margaret and Isabel completed our dear family circle.

I had a fall before Norcott's birth, and sometimes it
was quite painful. I had no comfortable rocking chair,
which troubled my mother not a little. On the morning
of one of my birthdays I found a nice sewing chair,
which in her pleasant way, she presented to me. Tears
sprang to my eyes, and I exclaimed ''Oh! Why did you
disfurnish yourself". She had a gold chain several times
more valuable than the chair, which she had taken to
the cabinet maker, and he very willingly made the
exchange.

After I had been married ten years I lost my mother —
the most intelligent, affectionate, patient counsellor that
ever an impulsive warm hearted daughter had. I felt
our home was especially blessed having had such a holy
woman to dwell under its roof. I have always felt, and a
sacred feeling it is, that the incense of her prayers, and
the holy life my blessed martyr mother led has caused
God to smile benignly upon us. We laid her tenderly
away in our cemetery where the ashes of several genera-

21

tions repose, under the cedar trees, and amid the perfume
of violets.

"No sweeter voice from human Hps e'er issued
Than that which sang low cradle hymns to me.
I hear it now in dreams, sweet Mother,
And shaken with sobs, awake to weep for thee."

LETTER X

The after effects of the war were as trying as the war
itself. We submitted to the inevitable, the freeing of
our slaves, the ruthless destruction of our valuable farms,
the pillage of our homes, the entire loss of my mother's
large estate, and after all this if we could have been let
alone; but the very elements seemed to conspire to ruin
us. The crops were more often bad than good, legislation
was against us, and I have often felt as if there was a
great black wall in front of me behind which there was no
light, but always when we came nearer the way would
open.

Your father had an excellent law practice, and his
family never suffered for anything, nay, I do not know
anyone who has done a better part by his children. A
more conscientious, faithful man never lived.

As I look back on a long married life, I recall many
incidents, both laughable, and pathetic. Many things
I would have my children remember, which cannot be
put down in these pages.

In 1877 the most beautiful child I ever saw was given
me, a brown eyed boy whom we named Edwin Speight.
He died suddenly of cholera infantum when he was six
months old. The shock and grief of his death so affected
me that I had the first serious illness I had ever had dur-
ing my married life. As I look back at all the intense
pain I suffered during a long illness I realize how much it
was lessened by the love and attention of my dear family.
My ever faithful little nurse, Minnie, would wait by the
bed-room door in the morning to come in and minister to
me.

Fannie was at school at Staunton, and Fred at Bing-
ham's. I had been sick so long I became accustomed to
my room, and looking at the river, and did not mind the
confinement. In July I went to Beaufort for the benefit
of the salt air. I sat on the piazza drinking in the
life-giving breeze and growing stronger. Kate was a
httle thing of six, and had been having dumb chills, of

28

which we could not break her, so she and Henry, Jr.
were sent down to me. In walking on the wharf one day
Kate fell overboard, and Henry very gallantly jumped
after her. He had on a pretty blue sailor suit, which was
not improved by contact with the salt water, but the
shock cured the chills. I think the sense of obligation
which Henry has caused Kate to feel is burdensome even
to this day.

Life jogged along for us as it does for many families.
Most of the children by this time had left the home-nest.
Your father was twice elected Judge of the Superior
Court. This left me a good deal at home with one or
two of my dear daughters. I still led a busy life, for he
was in politics, and that is a very uncertain life.

At first I went with him on his Circuit, and did enjoy
the mountain districts. In going around to the different
courts we stopped at Black Mountain, sixteen miles from
Asheville, and were charmed with the quietude and the
beauty of the place, so much so in fact that I bought six
acres on the brow of a hill, and my sons and your father
helped me build a dear lodge. Since then we have spent
many summers there. I gave the place to my five daugh-
ters, and we furnished it as best we could. We dug a well
of delightful water through the solid rock; entertained
company galore, sat on the broad piazza and viewed the
mountains — ''Seven Sisters", ''Craggy Dome", and the
numberless automobiles filled with people on their waj^ to
the Blue Ridge. I gave to my eldest daughter, her por-
tion of "Chestnut Lodge", and you can read in the
following verses how she appreciated it". —

"Do you know you have given a beautiful thing —
Which was raade by the hand of God.

A fair lovely cliff with a wonderful view,
Of valley and mountain and sod?

You have made me this gift in the spirit of love,
And bade me to build there a "Home",

The son and the daughter, in weal or in woe
The gay or the heart-sick may come.

My aim is to rear from the rocks that abound,

A foundation in soft tones of grey.
ril hew the tall pines to enclose the low walls,

A home where my children may stay.

29

Now what shall I call this sweet restful home —

That is my dear Mother's good gift?
The name of all others that comes to me first,

My Mother's own name ''Molly— Chff".

We visited many places. We had a lovely ride over the
Blue Ridge one pleasant hazy day to Sparta, Alleghany
County. The vehicle was comfortable, and the horses
spirited, and the beautiful views of valley and mountain
and sky were pleasant to behold. The laurel and spruce,
and other evergreens, and in the distance sheep and
cattle grazing on the mountain side, and the little homes
nesthng near rocky streams or springs, are indeed a
pleasant memory.

I want to tell you something of the life of my aunt
Annie Norcott, of whom I was so forcefully reminded on
one of my visits to the mountain country.

She was a very pretty brown-eyed girl — quite a belle
with the boys and attracted the attention of William
Bernard, whom she married and with whom she lived for
many years in Greenville. She had six sons and one
daughter. This girl was educated in Philadelphia, and
wrote beautiful letters. Her son, Germaine Bernard, mar-
ried JuKet Gilliam from Pilot Mountain, of whom I shall
tell you presently. During the summer of 1918 I paid a
short visit to two of my cousins, Mrs. Bernard's grand-
daughters, who lived at Pilot Mountain, Stokes County,
North Carolina. I found them most intelligent and agree-
able, and they told me many interesting incidents. You
all know about your grandfather Norcott, and his early
struggles, but nothing about his pretty sister, who married
Wilham Bernard. He was a good husband and took excel-
lent care of his family. He was from Hyde County — and
his father, Germaine Bernard settled there in a rather pe-
culiar way. This Germaine Bernard was a young man from
Bordeaux, France, and was coming to this country at the
time Oglethorpe settled Georgia but when of! the coast of
North CaroHna, near Hatteras, a violent storm came up,
and the vessel was wrecked, and everything lost. Young
Bernard was rescued with others, and found his way to
Hyde County, where he married a Miss Fortisque.
William was the only child of this couple. Mr. Germaine
Bernard was highly educated. He could speak seven
languages. He was thrown from his sulkey and killed
while driving tandem. There was a small settlement in
Hyde County named for him.

30

LETTER XI

In February 1897 I had a great pleasure. Your father
was holding court in Washington, N. C, and he took
me with him to revisit the loved scenes of my early child-
hood. I went to the old home around which clusters so
many fond recollections of my baby-hood. It presented
a very dilapidated appearance. I could hardly believe it
was the same place. There we took the carriage for
Grimesland, a much more pleasant mode of conveyance
to me than the automobile. One of the greatest pleasures
of this drive was that it led by "Chatham", the colonial
plantation of my great-great grandfather, Gen'l John
Simpson, and the grave yard where he and his wife and
many of his children's remains repose. It is on a hillock
covered with grass and moss a century old. The white
marble slabs shine faintly through the shadows of the old
oak trees. Briars and tangled under brush covered the
ground, grey moss hung in graceful festoons over this
place of the dead, and I thought what a record of hopes
and fears, dreary anticipations and pleasant reunions, this
old grave on the hill-side covered, for it was in colonial
times these things occurred.

Also on this road, near the Chatham farm is a his-
toric house, which I went into, and was greatly inter-
ested in. Col. Simpson's son was cashier, and this was
a bank belonging to the Crown. ^ A tremendous brick
fire-place covering almost the entire side of the house
divided into two large chimneys halfway up. Inside
were large closets in the brick wall, reaching down into
the cellar. These were the receptacles for the valuable
papers of the Crown and bank. This wonderful old
house is now occupied by negroes and going to decay.

My sons were doing well, and my sons-in-law, so I
really had not much to worry over.

There were so many of us, eight children, grand-chil-
dren, your father and I. Death and disease stalked about
the land, and the Death Angel visited everywhere, so my
heart was raised in thankfulness that we were spared, and
I prayed that this blessing of life, with grateful hearts,
might be vouchsafed to us for many years to come.

In 1900 your father's health began to fail. He still
kept on with his courts, but finally had to temporarily
retire. We went to a great many doctors, and mineral
springs, but without relief. On the advice of physicans
we went to Bedford Springs in Pennsylvania, passing

31

through Baltimore, where I persuaded Judge W. S. Brj^an
to come and join us for a month, and spend his vacation
there. I felt great responsibility with such a sick man so
far from home, and was glad to persuade my brother-in-
law, who was bright, encouraging company, to be with us.
How strangely things happen in this world. To think of
all the mineral springs in the country we should have been
directed to this one, which held such dear memories for
me. As I have told you before, my dear mother was
advised by Dr. Johnson of Raleigh years before this time,
to go to these springs, when I was only eleven years old.
The journey through the valley of the Junietta, is a fairy
dream. It was there as a child I acquired my taste for
maple sugar in the quaint little village of Bedford.
This was in 1851. When my mother and I left there we
went to Philadelphia where we met friends, and stopped
at a grand hotel. Mrs. Reid, this friend, took me to
v/alk with her one Sunday afternoon. We were on the
opposite side of the street when a number of Sunday
School scholars came out of a church. They began to
look at me, and even pointed at me. I grew very self-
conscious and confused, and asked Mrs. Reid what was
the matter. I had been very carefully dressed, and my
clothes were of rich material. We returned to the hotel
much bewildered, but found out the trouble was I had on
pantalettes (beautifully made with insertion, herring
bone, and lace) but alas! they had just gone out of
fashion, and I had not been in the city long enough to
learn this.

Well your father and I made this journey to Bedford
under different circumstances. As we could not find
room at the hotel proper, we stopped at a lovely place
called the ''Armsdale''. Here we had a nice visit. I
met Mrs. Lyon from Baltimore, with whom I still cor-
respond. Your uncle, Judge W. S. Bryan, did and said
all kinds of funny things, which I enjoyed.

After our visit to Bedford we went to Buffalo Lithia
and Cleveland, and returned home to find your father no
better. After much consultation we decided he had bet-
ter go to Johns Hopkins for an operation for gall stones.
He was operated on, but improved slowly. I, of course,
was with him, and it was a very trying experience. I
learned much of hospital life and saw many sad cases, and
much to draw upon one's sympathy.

We returned from Baltimore in February 1902.
After a short rest your father resumed his official duties,

32

and he displayed a great bravery in going from court to
court in his enfeebled condition. We got a good negro boy
from Fayetteville to accompany him, and this boy was
very attentive.

Finally he declined a re-election, and came home to
spend the remainder of his days by his own quiet fire-side.
He was very infirm, and one of us always accompanied
him on his walks. He was paralized twenty-one months
before he died. I had a rolling chair for him. He would
roll up and down the broad piazza looking at the beautiful
Neuse, dotted with the white sails of the boats, and
greeting passers-by. He was very patient and gentle,
and passed away the morning of the 14th of February
1919, falHng asleep like a child. He was willing to go.

For forty years we had had no death in our family
except that of a little delicate baby, whom we did not
expect to rear. At the time of your father's passing av/ay
our best beloved and most beautiful grand-daughter,
Mary Norcott London, was lying at the point of death
from that awful disease, influenza, at her home in Char-
lotte. Her husband, Capt. Edwin T. Cansler, was in
France with the army of occupation. He was not
allowed to return to his home until his bride had left us
forever. On the 18th of February 1919 God took her to
Himself. She was twenty-four years old, and life had
held nothing but love and happiness for her. Everything
has changed for us since we see her no more. We try to
be submissive, but we can never feel the same. May God
help us.

''Beautiful toiler, thy work all done,

Beautiful soul with glory gone.
Beautiful Life, with its crown now won,

God grant thee rest."

''Beautiful spirit, free from all stain.

Ours the heart-ache, the sorrow, the pain,

Thine is the glory, the infinite gain,
Thy slumber is sweet.''

And now I want to tell you of a happy birthday I
have had, indeed the happiest of all my eighty years.

I have had my old enemy the grippe again this winter,
and it has left my heart weak, so I do not know how many
years I may count on in this beautiful world I love so
much.

On this birthday I had four of my precious children

33

with me, and four away. Telegrams began to arrive
before breakfast, and letters. Such bright, pleasant
letters, and kind messages. Then came flowers! By
eleven o'clock the house was a bower, and so many
lovely presents. And I had not said a word about this
birthday. Scores of friends called during the day to
wish me ''Many happy returns". At night we had a
family dinner party consisting of twenty. Everyone was
so kind and nice. I am a most fortunate old woman, and
I thank God for all the love that has been lavished on me
all these years, and a million times for these children,
grand children and great-grand children. These last have
made me young again with them and been the delight
and joy of my old age. I have had a very comfortable
life, sunshine, and some shadow, more health than sick-
ness, more kindness than enmity, and the pleasure of
reading so many charming books. My eyes have served
me to good purpose. I am deaf, but very little, and I
take pleasure in everything going on.

''To the life we are clinging, they also would cling.
But it speeds for us all like a bird on the wing"
"So the multitude goes like the flower or weed.
That withers away to let others succeed.
So the multitude comes, even these we behold.
To repeat the same tale that has often been told".

LETTER XII

These letters are taken from one hundred and fifty writ-
ten during the four years I was at school in Richmond, Va.,
and Washington City, in 1854 and '58. My mother had
married a second time, and was hving on a beautiful plan-
tation called "Monticello," ten miles from Kinston. The
house was situated in a large grove; two huge live oaks
guarded the entrance at each side of the gate; and a flower
garden surrounded the house ; two vegetable gardens were
at the back, and a well of delicious water stood temptingly
near; so many servants about the house they were in each
others way, and a little maid stood at the back of her chair
to pick up the knitting ball when it was dropped. The
horses and carriage were brought to the door everj^ after-
noon for a drive. Although the surroundings were so
pleasant, it was often quite lonesome, and company was
given a cordial welcome. I remember there was once a
"Primitive Association" held in the neighborhood, and we
entertained a number of the delegates. The good old
preacher was asked to pray, and he put up a fervent

34

petition for the ''King of the House, and the Queen of the
Range." He had never been so far from home before
(thirty miles), but he was told he would ''Meet with
kindness and sure enough he had."

,^ _ . Sweet Spring, Va., Aug. 1st, 1854.

My Darling Mary,

I wrote you from Petersburg, Friday, which I hope
reached you Saturday evening, and I trust found you well
and cheerful. The next morning we took the cars of the
South Side Railroad to Lynchburg, however, the last
eleven miles of the road is not completed, and we had to
take the stage to L., thence by Tennessee railroad to
Salem, sixty miles from the White Sulphur. As we arrived
at the terminus of the road Saturday evening, we passed
the Sabbath at Salem, and yesterday morning at four
o'clock took our seats in the stage, only ten passengers,
eight inside, two on top. We anticipated an uncomfort-
able day, and were not disappointed. The road took us
nearly all the way over a succession of lofty mountains;
there seemed to be no way to get around them, con-
sequently they had to be crossed. Our nerves were
frequently tried at the dangerous precipices which yawned
so fearfully on the mountain side, yet that same unseen
hand which has preserved us all our life long brought us
safety through, and we could not but feel grateful, not
only for protection, but also that we had been permitted
to enjoy the view of these magnificent mountains. Must
say the views we had yesterday for grandeur exceed
anything I have seen. On our way here we learned that
there was such a crowd of visitors at White Sulphur that
there was no chance of getting rooms, and feeling greatly
the need of rest we have stopped here for a day or two, and
have sent to engage rooms. We are only seventeen miles
from the W. S, This is a lovely spot, and very much
improved since I saw it, just seventeen years since. How
time flies! I cannot realize that the 16th of this month I
shall be forty-two, that is if spared to see it. Yet so it
is, and we should wisely improve the precious moments
as they pass. I feel much pain at our separation my dear
child, yet conscience and judgment both tell me that
I have done right, and I hope you think with me and will
try to be happy and satisfied, and improve finely in all
your studies. I feel very anxious to hear from you, and
have sent over to the White Sulphur for letters; don't fail
to write twice a week. Your aunt Mary is somewhat un-
well with cold; she will soon be relieved now she can be

35

quiet. Mr. C. and uncle are quite well. I am mending
slowly. I am too much fatigued to write you a long
letter, but will do so very soon. Tell your cousin to write.
You must both be prudent about eating fruit. If you
have any news from cousin Ann Howard let me know.
I am very fearful we shall never see her again, and how it
grieves me to think of her and her children. Oh, how
much they will love if their mother is taken from them!
But God knows best, we must leave these solemn things
in his hands. We all join in love to you and Mary.
Her father says she must improve rapidly in her studies.
Goodbye darling. May kind angels guard you.

Your loving Mother.

White Sulphur Springs, Va., Aug. 5, 1854.
My dearest Mary:

We rested two days at the Sweet Springs, and then
came on to this place the next morning; had the pleasure
of receiving your of July 28th. I was delighted to hear
from my precious child, and especially relieved in mind
to hear you were tolerably well satisfied and getting
interested in your studies ; hope your next letter, which I
am looking for daily, will inform me that you are still
more contented and getting on finely. Your uncle
received your cousin's letter at the same time I did yours;
he will write soon. Wednesday night when we came over
here there was so much difficulty in getting cabins at this
place we stopped about one mile distant, and have but
just obtained rooms and come down. The first thing
after getting the baggage arranged is to write to you.
This place is somewhat improved since we were here nine
years ago, and there is a great crowd of people here — at
least six hundred and fifty. About the middle of this
month the visitors will begin to lessen, and will continue
to do so until all leave. The water thus far seems to agree
with me very well, and I hope for great relief from taking it.
Your aunt has continued to suffer with cold ever since she
left, and is quite indisposed from it. She begins to think
it would have been better to remain in Wake; I hope,
however, she will receive much benefit before going home.
Of course, I have not had an opportunity of visiting your
dear father's grave, but Mr. C. and Uncle have visited
the sacred spot, and say it is in nice order, and the tombs-
stone the best in the graveyard. Ah, my dear Mary, my
mind goes back with so much vividness to the sad,
heart-stricken time I had here nine years since, and, in
imagination, I can see the solemn funeral procession

followed by only two mourners, one of them a little girl of
only four years, who little knew the greatness of the loss
she had sustained, and who, young as she was, tried so
earnestly to win her mother from her grief.

These things, darling child, your mother cannot forget,
and too, ever since you have lain in my bosom, the strong-
est tie to life, and my dear, my love knows no change,
yet I do believe it is really necessary you should learn to
depend on yourself, which you would not learn if con-
stantly with me. So, you see, duty requires us to do
many things which are not agreeable. I wrote you last
Tuesday from the Sweet Springs, this is Saturday evening
—two letters this week— have you done as well? Your
letter was five days getting here; hope mine are not so
long reaching you. Now, my child, I must urge you to be
prudent in every respect, and when you write tell me all
about yourself as to health, studies and everything I
should know. While undergoing so much fatigue to get
here, I could but feel glad that you were in a place of
comfort quietly pursuing your studies. How much I
would prefer home to this summer travel! Your uncle,
aunt, and Mr. C. all join in love to you, and Mary. Let
me remind you that both should not write by the same
mail, then we should hear from you oftener. The Lord
bless and preserve my child from all evil is the prayer of

Your affectionate Mother.

Monticello, N. C, March 11th, 1855.
My dear Mary,

You are permitted to see another birthday, and my
heart is filled with deep gratitude to God for having spared
you and granted the many blessings which have crowded
youi' life. Fourteen years have swiftly glided by; the
period usually allotted to childhood has passed, and
you are now entering the most important period of life,
for on the manner in which you improve the next seven
years depends, in a great measure, your well doing in time
and destiny in eternity. You have hitherto been almost
constantly by my side; as yet you have known but little
of the responsibility of relying on your own discretion and
exertion. The time has now come for us to separate, and
for you to prove that the lessons so constantly given have
been treasured, and that you have fixed principles of right
to guide you safely through the many temptations and
difficulties which may assail you. I do not think, my
dear daughter, that I need urge you to be diligent in the

37

acquisition of learning; the pleasure it affords us, to you,
a sufficient inducement. I would, however, caution you
against indulgence of novel reading. Now is the time to
store the treasure house of your niind with useful know-
ledge, which will stand 3^ou in good stead in the years to
to come, I desire at this time my precious child, to call your
attention to the importance of improving your temper and
manners. Now is the time to bend your every effort to
aquire an amiable disposition, and that sweet, gentle
dignity of manner which is so necessary to make up the
character of a refined and polished lady, and which also
adds so much to the happiness of the social circle. The
task, which I so earnestly desire you to undertake, will
not be the work of a day or month; you will, perhaps,
feel that it is difficult, nevertheless persevere and I trust
and believe success w\\\ crown your efTorts. I must,
however, here remind you that in our weakness and
inability to overcome the imperfections of our nature,
and to strive after a high standard of moral excellence,
there is a source higher than earth to which we are privi-
ledged to apply for wisdom and grace to that blessed
fountain opened in the house of David for sin and un-
cleanness. I would point and urge you to ask wisdom
of God, who giveth liberally and upbraideth not. May
you find that the blood of Christ cleanseth all from sin,
and may His grace enable you to use the blessings be-
stowed ''as a wise servant who has to give account of the
talents committed to his care." To you, just beginning
life, the future seems beautifully tinted with the rainbow
hues of hope, the future looks bright and fair. I would
not cast a cloud on your pleasing anticipations, but would
remind you that all things bright must fade; that this
earth is not our abiding place. Already many of our loved
and cherished ones have been called to the spirit land, and
we must soon follow? How important then to have the
affections placed on things above, and to be able to say —

Whatever thou deniest 0 give me thy grace
The spirits sure witness and smiles of thy face.
Indulge me with patience to wait at thy throne
And find even here a sweet foretaste of home."

My prayer for you is ''Lead her not into temptation,
but deliver her from evil," May you my precious child, be
spared to see many returns of this day, and each one find
you advancing in wisdom and holiness.

Your affectionate Mother.

38

Monticello, N. C, January 29th, 1858.
My darling child :

When the boy returned from the office Monday, I was
most agreeably surprised to receive yours of the twenty-
second instant. I had been feeling very anxious about
you all day, and it was such a relief to hear my precious
Mary had passed a happy week, and was, as I inferred,
in good health. I wrote last Monday and enclosed a
draft to Mrs. Kingsford. I hope it reached you safely.
It will soon be time to pay for the second half of the
session, which Mr. C. will have it in his power to attend
to in good time as he has just sent his cotton to New Berne
to be shipped to New York. Just think! one-twelfth of
the New Year is nearly gone; time does, indeed, pass
rapidly away, and how careful we should be to improve it
as it flies! Let the duties of the day be done in the day,
then work will be pleasant and you will not be over-tasked.
Time with you is very important, and you must not let
your disposition for fun and amusement draw you off from
your studies; at the same time I don't wish my darUng to
lose her cheerful disposition and joyous laugh. I am very
glad Mrs. Kingsford is so kind as to take you to places
calculated to interest and improve you. You should try
to profit by all your opportunities, and fit yourself to be
an ornament and a blessing in the circle in which you
move. Even now, you should try to do good by setting
a good example to your associates. Some of them I am
sure have not had the careful training you have had, and
a word in season might do them much good. There is
your friend. Miss Fox, who has no mother; she has some
good traits of character; persuade her to try to overcome
those little pets of temper, and she will be so much
happier. The Good Book says ''Greater is he that
keepeth his temper than he that taketh a city'\ Above
all persuade her to ask God in humble prayer to give her
strength to do right; and may I not hope that my precious
Mary seeks earnestly for grace and wisdom from the
same source? Have you, dearest, ever thought how many
prayers your mother humbly presents to God for your
conversion, and for every other needed blessing, in the
course of one year at only three a day? And they are
much more than that, but at that estimate there are
more than a thousand. Recollect this when you are
silencing the voice of conscience and putting off repentance
to a more convenient season. Now is the accepted time.
I pray you, then, delay not to seek an interest in the
atoning blood of our blessed Savior. I am pleased to

39

hear that Meta J. wrote you. It does indeed seem a
pity she did not receive your letter in time to go to
Washington City. I have no doubt she is a very nice
girl, and should be happy to see her at our house. And
Miss Monroe is not married; she is, no doubt, right in
putting off that important step to a more distant day.
Mrs. Ivy from New Berne and Mrs. Chappell from
Kinston spent two days with us this week. Mrs. C. has
a lovely babe six months old. Your cousin and Alice
are both looking well, and are cheerful. Of course they
have a good deal to say about beaux, but it does not
amount to much. It is a settled fact that our anticipa-
tions are seldoni reaHzed, and it would be well if we could
refrain from building too many air-castles, which so soon
vanish at the realities of life. To the well-regulated mind
there is always enough to interest for they do not live on
continual excitement, expecting something remarkable to
occur to make them conspicuous and envied above others.
They accept with gi^atitude the gifts of God, and enjoy
all as coming from a father's hand. Mr. C's. health is
better this week. I am thinking of going to New Berne
tomorrow, but I have a headache today and may put it
off until Monday. Your Aunt Sue does not improve; I
fear she will always be an invalid. I shall take Annie
with me to see her mother, and probably bring her back
again. She is improving in looks as she grows older, but
is not nearly so pretty as Mary; she promises to be a rare
beauty. Little Sue is a darhng too; she looks very sweet
toddling oyer the floor. Your uncle is very much opposed
to your quitting school next summer. He says you have
•the talents, the means and the youth, and should not
think of leaving school until you are eighteen. Can you
hold out that long? If you can, I don't know how I
could bear it, but we will try to decide right. My going
to Washington this winter is doubtful. Mrs. Parmerle
and Mrs. Bernard are coming to see me quite soon. You
have not told me how you like the bonnets or veil. Do
you walk every day when the weather will allow, and do
you wear your thick shoes? Your letters do me so much
good ; how I long to see you to imprint some loving kisses
on your dear cheek, but I must wait. William had a
letter from Mary Jabe last week, all were very well.
Tell me how your health is, and if you weigh as much as
when you left home.

Goodbye, may God bless you.

Your affectionate Mother.

40

Monticello, N. C. March 6, 1858.
My dearest Mary:

Your dear letter of the twenty-fifth ultimo was received
Wednesday while I was suffering with a most distressing
sick headache. I sat up in bed and read it, and felt that it
was, indeed, a sweet little messenger of peace and love.
Yes, darling, the sentiments expressed are such as I
approve, and now that you have arrived at an age capable
of choosing what is noble and elevating, it is cause of
great gratification that your mind is satisfied only with
goodness, purity and truth. I was pleased to hear you
enjoyed the levee. It must, indeed, have been a rare
treat to you who enjoy novelty with so much zest. But
don't let the President's compliments increase your vanity,
for you must recollect he is a bachelor, and, of course,
must be comphmentary to the ladies. Certainly, you had
a great deal of social enjoyment for one week, especially
if you finished with the visit to Mrs. Clark. If you went,
I hope you had an enjoyable time, and not too many
fascinating beaus about. I am often anxious about your
health, fearing your buoyant disposition will be the cause
of imprudence. I felt quite relieved to find the levee was
over without causing you a severe cold. Last Monday
morning I wrote you hurriedly , thinking I would write more
at length in a day of two, but the week has proved one of
unusual occupation; so much so, that now, Saturday
night, I have just found time to write. Monday morning
Mrs. Mitchell, and Miss Seeley left. Their company was
very agreeable, but my mind was so divided between my
desire to attend to my guests, and, at the same time, not
to neglect Mr. C. that I necessarily felt somewhat reheved
when they left. The next day I received very polite
letters from both ladies. Miss S. expressed herself
highly pleased with her visit, and hopes I may soon visit
the north and afford her an opportunity of reciprocatmg
my kindness. She is really a nice, intelhgent woman,
Mr. C. has been in bed all the week; he sat up a good deal
Wednesday, and aided in nursing my head while I was
suffering so. Fortunately I was able to be up next day,
as usual, and give him all the attention he required — I
may say requires, for he is still in bed, and worse last
night than he has been. Dr. Woodley has been out
today, and says his is a case of chronic hver disease, not
very dangerous, but I expect will require a long course of
treatment to effect a cure. Mr. C. is very thin, and looks
very badly at times, but he is not desponding. It grives
me to see him suffer, but I hope he will be spared some

41

years longer to be a stay and a comfort to us all. Lizzie
and her dear little boys stayed a week and left yesterday
morning. You can imagine how difficult it was to keep
those lively boys from making a noise to disturb Mr. C.
At times they would break through and give us an idea
of what they could do if restraint were removed. Just
before dinner yesterday Alice Hilliard and Mary Simpson
came up to meet Rebecca Powell, who is going down to
your uncle's to go to school to Miss. Rebecca Owen.
By brother's request William went to Goldsboro and
brought Miss Powell down; the young ladies speak of
returning tomorrow, but it is now snowing, and the
chances are in favor of my keeping them, I feel very
anxious to have time to write you a birthday letter, but
fear it will be rather too late; however, a day or two after
will make no great difference. I have been thinking of
it every day, but with a house full of company, myself
somewhat indisposed, and Mr. C. sick it seemed im-
possible to command the time.

I hope darling you will have health, and every other
needed blessing. Remember me particularly on the
eleventh. My prayers and feelings will be with you, and
I trust you will make some good resolves for the future.

God bless you, my child,

Your loving Mother.

New Berne, N. C, April 21, 1859.
My precious child.

The stage was so late getting in Tuesday night I did
not get your letter until yesterday morning, which seemed
a long time to wait for it. I am very sorry to hear you
have been sick; what was the matter? I hope you will
be prudent for health should be highly prized. I am
troubled about your going to Greenville, and now say
most emphatically that I do not wish you to go with Mr.
Latham or anyone else, unless it is an old friend, or one of
your cousins could come down to go and return with you.
My darling daughter is of too much importance to be
travelling about under the escort of anyone she can pick
up. If you can't go under proper protection, put off the
visit to another time. If I were able I would come over
and go with you, but I have a fever every day with dis-
tressing headache. I have to stay in bed several hours
in the middle of the day and merely keep up the balance of
the time; of course I am tied at home. Your absence
begins to seem very long to me. I can't say I am willing

42

for you to stay until the middle of May, but give me rea-
sons for wishing to stay, and say how you will arrange
about Mr. Bryan's visit. Another thing — will you be
treating Sarah Outlaw right to stay so long? You will
have to come home in the stage and I ought to send som-
one to come home with you. I don't hke you to have no
protection but a stage driver. Let me know how you
can arrange these matters for they cause me a good deal of
anxiety; perhaps Wilhe Grist would come; if so, you should
pay his way. I hope you enjoyed your letters; I will
forward any others that may come. I sent one to Sarah
Outlaw from C. Hill by yesterday's mail. Mr. B. is cer-
tainly a faithful correspondent. I regret to hear M. is so
easily pleased, as I am anxious she should make a good
match. I know you are all having a nice time, but should
think you could be ready to come home by the last of the
month and give the "picnic" up. Dr. Duffy is better,
though still in bed. Your Aunt Lizzie is sick now,
but I hope she will not be very sick. Sue is here today and
while I was up stairs lying down she cut up a supply of
postage stamps I had just bought; she left only two.
She sends you a kiss. Mr. Cuthbert's handsome goods
have not arrived, and I have not been able to go to the
stores to select any dresses for you and Mary S. I will
try and get out in a day or two. Have you seen Sister
Fullerton yet? Do go to see her as often as you can.
I feel very grateful to Mrs. Permerle and other friends for
their kindness to you. Kiss Mrs. P. for me. I hope Mr.
P. has returned safely, and that you will have the pleasure
of seeing him. I don't think it will do any good to ad-
vise M. a great deal. I wish, however, she would not
have any more trifling love affairs for they are much to be
regretted. My darhng, I am lonely without you; the
house at times looks dreary and almost desolate. Then,
at night I want you in my arms, and have your sweet
goodnight kiss. I hope the stage will be in time to let me
have your letter tonight. I would like to see it before I
close this, but then it would be too late to get mine in.
Write every mail without fail. May our heavenly
Father preserve you from all evil and return you safely to
your fond

Mother.

43

n^

HENRY RAVENSCROFT BRYAN

New Berne, North Carolina,

January 31st, 1912.
Henry Ravenscroft Bryan, sixth son of John
tage Bryan, and Mary WilHams Bryan, his wife,
was 'born in New Berne on the 8th day of March, 1836.
I was born in the brick house on Pollock Street in which
my Father and Grandfather (James Bryan) lived, situ-
ated on the south side of the street, between Metcalf and
George. My parents were natives of New Berne, and
were married there on the 20th of Dec. 1821 by the Rev.
Richard S. Mason of the Episcopal Chuixh.

The name of my Mother's father was William Shepard,
son of Jacob Shepard. William Shepard died in 1819.
He was a native of Carteret Co., North Carolina. His
wife's maiden name was Mary Blount, daughter of
Frederick Blount, and a native of Pasquotank Co., N. C,
and lived on the Elm or Elmwood Plantation in said
county. My mother was named for her maternal
grandmother, Mary Williams, who married Frederick
Blount (son of John Blount) April 5th, 1769. He was a
polished gentleman of wealth, a planter lawyer, and
intimate friend of the Colonial Governor Try on. Mary
Blount, my grandmother, was born in 1772, and was buried
in the old cemetary in Raleigh on the 16th day of October
1864. She died on the 12th of October in her 93rd year.
Mary Blount, daughter of Frederick Blount married
William Shepard on the 12th of May 1794. William
Shepard was an uncle of the Biddies of Philadelphia —
Nicholas and others. CLYeL^

My maternal Grandfather, William Shepfegj^ w^as a
man of business, and large property. He was principal
owner of the famous privateer ''Snap Dragon," com-
manded by Otway Burns in the War of 1812. This vessel
was quite successful in capturing prizes of war. Shepard
owned a steam sawmill, located near New Berne on
Lawson's Creek, and much real estate in and around New
Berne. He lived in a large brick house at the corner of
South Front and Middle Streets, and owned property
on the west side of Middle Street down to the channel
of Trent river.

My paternal Grandfather, James Bryan, was native of
Craven Co., and was engaged in merchandise in New Bern.
He owned vessels that ran to the West Indies and
Northern Points. His store was on Pollock St. opposite

44

the eastern corner of the Episcopal church yard. He died
in January 1806, and he and WilHam Shepard are both
buried in Cedar Grove Cemetery in New Berne. My
paternal grandmother was Rachael HerVitage, daughter
of Capt. John Herj-itage of the Continental Hne. Her
family owned a plantation in Lenoir Co., named ''Harrow"
from Harrow in England. Upon the death of her first
husband, James Bryan, who died leaving three children,
towit: John HerHtage, Elizabeth and James West, she
married Dr. Fred Blount, by whom she had several
children, Frederick, Alexander, Mary, Caroline, and
Heritage. Some of these Blounts moved to Florida.
She died in New Berne in 1840.

My mother, Mary W. Bryan, was born in New Berne
Jan. 2nd 1801. She was a woman of very strong character
had a good education, and handsome black eyes. She was
a good disciplinarian. She and my father were the parents
of fourteen children. The youngest, Frederick, died at
seventeen. Thirteen grew up to maturity. They were
attendants upon the Episcopal Church and well instructed
in its doctrines. My father and mother were much given
to hospitality, and lived in much comfort with plenty of
servants — their slaves.

My father, John Hemtage Bryan, was born in New
Berne, November 4th, 1798, grandson of Col. John Bryan,
an officer in the Revolution and member of the Provincial
congress at Halifax. His ancestry on both sides were
prominent in the life of the colony from its first settlement.
He was elected to the state senate in 1823, and served two
terms. In 1825 while travelling in the Northern States
for his health, he was, unknown to himself, elected to the
State Senate and Congress on the same day, defeating
Rochard Dobbs Speight for Congress. He was the
youngest member of Congress. He served two terms and
declined a re-election, desiring to devote his whole time
to his law practise, and to his growing family. (See his
address to his constituents in 1829.) Soon thereafter he
dechned an election to Superior Court Bench. In 1830
he delivered the commencement address at the University.
In 1838, in February, he moved to Raleigh. He pur-
chased a house and lot from George E. Badger in the
Northern part of the city, the adjoining square being now
occupied by the Governor's mansion. He was a man of
gi-eat personal popularity, always courteous, polite,
dignified, strictly honest and truthful. It was said of
him in the obituary which was written by his friend Geo.

Noin : //^ Ty{ta OIL -[2^73 )

W. Mordecai, ''No man ever doubted his word." His
appearance was fine and striking. He died in Raleigh,
N. C. on the 10th day of May 1870.

My mother, Mary W. Bryan, died in Raleigh, July
13th, 1881. They lived together happily, for nearly
fifty years.

At the age of six I started school in Raleigh, and after
several years entered the ''Raleigh Classical Mathe-
matical and ^Military Academy" kept by Jefferson M.
Lovejoy. The latter part of May 1852 several other
pupils of Lovejoy's and myself left Raleigh in private con-
veyance for Chai)el Hill to be examined for college. In
June I went back 'and became a member of the Freshman
Class, consisting of fifty-seven members I graduated with
first and second distinction, and delivered the Latin
Salutatory, a first honor speech at the commencement.
I graduated in June 1856. There was a class of fifty mem-
bers. After graduation I commenced the study of law
with my father in Raleigh. In June 1857 I obtained a
license from the Supreme Court to practise in the county
courts. After receiving my license to practice law I went
abroad for about four months. We were ten days in
crossing. I returned home in September 1858, and
secured an office in Raleigh opposite the present post
office.

On the 24th day of November 1859 I was married to

MisVjVIary Biddk Norcott. We were married in the

brick houseln'iNewBBrrTe known as the "Jarvis House,"

on the south-east corner of East Front and Johnston

Streets. Rev. Thos. E. Skinner of Raleigh officiated.

tS After marriage we took a bridal trip south. We re-

i^turned to Bew Berne and have resided here ever since.

I rented an office in about a year and entered upon the

practice of law. In the fall of 1860 I purchased from

James and T. W. Miller, two Northern men, the old

Speight" planation and the "Jim Stanly" land adjoining.

The land runs from Trent River to Neuse, containing ac-

> cording to the deed 1801 acres. We are still owners except

^* a few acres that have been sold off.

^ ^ We were forced to "refugee" up country during the war
^ between the States, and while there two of our children
^^ were born. After the close of the war we went back to
I^ ^ New Berne with very little to live on. I managed to sec-
* Cn cure some rent from the plantation the year the war
ended. I got about twenty-seven bales of cotton, some
^^ of which I sold for 52 J/^ cents a pound. I opened a law

office in New Berne. With this and rents from the
plantation we managed to ''make buckle and tongue"
meet. We lived in rented houses for several years, and
on March 29th, 1870 we moved into our home on the
Neuse, where we have lived ever since.

We have had eleven children born to us, a list of which
I give as follows:
John Norcott, born October 3rd, 1860 in Greensboro, N.C.

died very young.
Sarah Frances, born at ''Company Shops," N. C, March

29th, 1862. (Married John B. Broadfott of Fayette-

ville, N. C, Oct. 15th, 1885.) jDii.^
Frederick Charles born in Raleigh, N.f C, May 3rd, 1864.

(Married Letitia Allis Williams of SvraG«|aMfew Yprk, <

on September 28th, 1907.) l^^oU cIp^W/ (Myhjt^
Mary Norcott Born in New Berne, January 20th, 1867.

Henr^ j-vctvcii&ciuit, uum m incw -uume, uctnuciiy j.sl, loi\j. ,^

(Married Wilhe Law, of Raleigh, June 23rd, 1909.)- tJx
Shepard, born in New Berne, December 8th, 1871, cZi^

(Married Florence King Jackson of Atlanta, Ga.,

Jan. 14th, 1909.) ^

Isabel, born in New Berne, April 5th, 1873. Died in

infancy.
Kate, born in New Berne, May 2nd, 1874.

(Married Franl^ S. Duify of New Berne, April 5th,

1899.) c^cj^^ /jee. 8//^y^-^

Margaret Shepard, born in New Berne{ December 1st,

1875.
Edwin Speight born in New Berne, March 19th, 1877.

Died iainfancy.
Isabel Constance born May 10th, 1879 in New Berne,

(Married Edwin H. Jordan, Loudon County, Virginia,

November 16th, 1905.)

Three children have died in infancy, eight now remain
and are a great comfort in the declining years of their
parents.

The shadows are getting very low, particularly for me.
The days of the years of my pilgrimage are seventy and
six years. My wife's age is seventy-one. She was born
on the 11th day of March 1841. f

I have filled a few offices during my uneventful life.
I have been Justice of the Peace, attorney for A. & N. C.
Railway, and for the Board of County Commissioners,
and also for the City of New Berne, and Mayor of said
city. Presidential Elector and in the Electoral College
voted for General Winfield S. Hancock. I have been
judge of the Superior Court of North Carolina. I was
on the bench for sixteen years (two terms) and at the age
of seventy-one years retired, my term having expired.
I have been all over the state, and held court in every
county several times. I served the state during my term
to the best of my ability, and endeavored to administer
justice without fear, favor, or affection.

I have never in that high and responsible office done
other than my duty as I understood it. My career is
now nearly closed, and I will soon be gathered unto my
fathers, and required to give an account of the deeds done
in the body.

48

00032193929

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